


No Biting

by missmichellebelle



Series: Strawberry Sandwich [2]
Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Daddies, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 07:04:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1336435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What do you want to eat for dinner, sweetheart?" Chris asks before Darren can open his mouth. His voice is soft and full of affection, and it makes Darren smile.</p><p>Later, Darren will blame his exhaustion for what he says next. He'll blame his distraction, and the fact that it's <i>kind of</i> been awhile since they've had sex, and Chris will just blame Darren for being himself.</p><p>"You," Darren answers, eyes still staring unblinkingly at the TV, and he doesn't snap out of it until he hears a tiny, amused giggle that definitely doesn't belong to Chris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Biting

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to [Sarah](http://goingtohogwartsinatardis.tumblr.com), not only for helping come up with the idea, but for coming up with some of the dialogue as well. uwu

Darren is tired.

It is Sunday afternoon, the living room is that perfect amount of cold that comes from a handy thermostat and a kick ass AC unit, and Darren is just _so_ tired. He's staring at the television, head lolled back on the couch, eyes glazed over as he watches… Something. He's not sure what it is, just that it's animated and that he doesn't really understand what's going on. What happened to cartoons? When did they change so much?

He should change it, but… He's not really sure where the remote is. Maybe he can ask Chris to change it. Chris is probably less tired and thus much more capable of finding the remote.

"What do you want to eat for dinner, sweetheart?" Chris asks before Darren can open his mouth. His voice is soft and full of affection, and it makes Darren smile.

Later, Darren will blame his exhaustion for what he says next. He'll blame his distraction, and the fact that it's _kind of_ been awhile since they've had sex, and Chris will just blame Darren for being himself.

"You," Darren answers, eyes still staring unblinkingly at the TV, and he doesn't snap out of it until he hears a tiny, amused giggle that definitely doesn't belong to Chris.

Darren turns to look at Chris, who is giving him a thoroughly unimpressed look, and then Darren looks to the floor, where their four-year-old daughter is sitting surrounded by toys.

"Shit," Darren says, and then winces. "I mean, fuck— _I mean_ , shoot." Sometimes he wonders how anyone ever decided he was ready to be a father.

"Thanks for your input, _dear_ ," Chris finally says, the endearment clearly said through gritted teeth, "But I was asking Sophie, not _you_." It's said almost too sweetly, in the way that lets Darren know he is _so_ in trouble. He gives Chris his cutest smile—maybe that'll lighten the blow later.

Sophie has waddled over to them, arms folded on the couch as she looks at them with a big smile, like her parents are the most entertaining things on the planet.

"Papa wants Daddy for dinner?" Sophie asks, as if it's the funniest thing she's ever heard of, and Chris gives Darren a look, the kind of look that says, _How are we going to explain this one?_

But before either of them has a chance to say anything, Sophie looks at Darren with the kind of devilish grin that could only be inherited from him.

"Eat Daddy," she says, eyes big and round, and Darren sees Chris's mouth fall open out of the corner of his eye. "Eat Daddy," she says again, seeming more excited by the statement, and starts to bang her little fists against the couch. "Eat Daddy, eat Daddy, eat Daddy," she chants, and Darren feels the laughter bubbling up from his stomach as she keeps going.

"Oh _god_ ," Chris groans, and then let's out a strangled shriek as Darren pounces on him, growling. Sophie howls with excitement, clapping her hands as Darren starts to mercilessly tickle Chris, sticking his face in Chris's neck and nuzzling there as he says, "Nom nom nom!"

"You are—" Chris gasps, whacking at him in the way he does whenever he's tickled, "—the _worst!_ " Chris laughs loud and sudden and surprised, and Darren grins into his husband's skin.

There's sudden movement beside him, and Darren looks to see that Sophie has joined the party, jabbing her fingers against Chris's chest because she doesn't quite know how to tickle people yet.

"Are you helping?" Darren asks jovially, and Sophie stops for just a second to look at him and nod very seriously.

Right before she bites Chris in the arm.

"No, no, no, no," Darren starts to say immediately, sitting up and pulling her off Chris. Chris's mouth is drawn into a straight line as he looks at the marks their little girl left on his arm. "We're not really biting Daddy, honey. We're just playing. We don't bite people, right?"

Sophie frowns petulantly at first, and then crosses her arms as she looks up at Darren.

"Papa bites Daddy all the time," is what she says, and Darren blanches.

"What are you talking about, sweetie?" Chris asks, scooting closer. "When does Papa bite Daddy?"

"I dunno!" Sophie answers, frustrated. "I don't _see_."

"Then what makes you say that?" Darren prompts, confused.

"Because Papa has ouchies," Sophie explains. "Like, like Jackie at school, and Jackie has those ouchies because Connor bit her."

Darren's eyes grow wide, and when he looks at Chris, Chris's face is flushed red. Darren had been desperately trying to think of when he would have bitten Chris, but, well… Darren clears his throat. He shoots a look at Chris, not knowing what to say at all, and Chris just stares back as flatly as he can manage while still being obviously embarrassed.

"Do you want to go out for ice cream sundaes tonight, Soph?" Chris finally asks, and Sophie's eyes light up.

"Ice cream!" She shouts excitedly. "I want strawberry! And vanilla! And chocolate! And-and-and, Papa, what other kinds of ice cream are there?" Sophie looks at Darren as if it's the most important question he could ever answer.

"We'll talk about ice cream later," Chris supplies before Darren can answer. "But if you want ice cream, you have to clean up your toys."

Sophie looks seconds away from complaining, but Chris has this look that has always worked on Darren so it isn't very surprising when it works on their daughter. She's pouting when she finally climbs down from Darren's lap, but she starts to push all of her toys into a pile.

"Nice save." Darren lets out a sigh of relief. He had no idea how he was going to talk his way out of that one. He's spent a large majority of his life talking around things and charming his way out of answering, but there's no way to do that with his daughter (not that he particularly ever wants to, but sometimes it clearly seems necessary).

"Don't think that lets you off the hook," Chris replies curtly, and Darren's shoulders drop. "We need to talk about your hickey placement if our _daughter_ is starting to notice," Chris hisses.

"…does that mean there is possible hickey placement in the future?"

"…really? Now? After what just happened?" Chris shoots, and Darren wilts.

"…to be fair, I did say _in the future_ , not _now_ ," Darren retorts, and Chris huffs out a laugh—it's one of those noises that kind of signifies that Darren won that round, a tell of Chris's that Darren has never let on that he knows.

"Well… I suppose it is a possibility in the future," Chris muses, and if their toddler wasn't three feet away singing a song about ice cream, Darren is pretty sure he'd be hard just from the promise of what might be ahead of it (seriously, it's been _awhile_ ).

As it is, he's a father now, and there's kind of a time and place for everything. Even if he maybe hasn't really learned all of them yet.

**Author's Note:**

> [Read & Reblog on Tumblr?](http://missmichellebelle.tumblr.com/post/80045607518/no-biting)


End file.
